


The Words Unsaid

by undeerqueen



Series: The Long Way Round [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Deathfic, Gen, Irondad, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, abuse of ellipses, let's see, mentions of the Guardians
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-23
Updated: 2018-03-23
Packaged: 2019-04-07 03:25:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14071887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/undeerqueen/pseuds/undeerqueen
Summary: Peter takes his last breath on a metal cot, looking at a hologram of the Earth. Tony doesn't know the date, nor where they are, or even the damn time of death, as the Milano glides through the expanse of space where normal doesn't exist and blackness cradles them all around.What Tony does know is that Peter dies very gently, holding his hand, more loved than he could ever realise.





	The Words Unsaid

**Author's Note:**

> i love you guys so much <3
> 
> also, apologies for not getting this out yesterday as promised--life ambushed me as it does. please enjoy!

Peter takes his last breath on a metal cot, looking at a hologram of the Earth. Tony doesn't know the date, nor where they are, or even the damn time of death, as the Milano glides through the expanse of space where normal doesn't exist and blackness cradles them all around.

What Tony does know is that Peter dies very gently, holding his hand, more loved than he could ever realise.

The med-bay is full of thick silence, only interrupted by Tony's soft gasps for air and the uncomfortable scratching of feet behind him. His face is sticky and damp. Blood pounds in his temples. The skin around his eyes is tight and swollen. Haloes radiate around every light and his vision is so blurred, he wants nothing more than to close his eyes, block out the sprawled body of the kid before him.

He doesn't.

He breathes as steadily as he can, save for the hitches of his shoulders, the tiny gulps that catch in his throat. Right now, Tony is perfectly content with the stillness, to quietly watch Peter and commit every detail of his young face to memory.

Quill, the loudmouth, is the first one to speak. Tony pays him no mind. He's impossible to look at right now, with just minutes having passed since the kid's final exhale, because all Tony can see is the little similarities between the two Peters. Quill is the leader Tony could imagine Peter growing up to be, charismatic and goofy and loyal to a fault. The orphans who made their own family.

Peter's last words repeat in his mind on a loop. " _...how you've been...you've been like a d-d—_ "

He didn't have the strength to finish the sentence, but Tony heard him, clear as a bell. Tears trail down his cheeks, falling on Peter's sallow face. They glisten in the white lights of the med-bay like meteorites, sparkling in the sky.

" _And you, Peter,_ " he had wanted to say—if it wouldn't have clued Peter in on the fact that something was very wrong, when all he wanted was for the boy to go in _peace—_ " _you were like my very own kid._ "

God he had such hopes for him. He winces, his head aching something fierce, face flushed with emotion.

"I'm so sorry, Tony," Quill offers quietly, sounding choked himself. "We'll...We can move him into cryo, keep everything...you know, for the rest of the way back. Just say the word—"

"No," Tony cuts him off. His throat is raw, his voice all but gone. But the one word is enough to stop Quill in his tracks. He doesn't want Peter to go into cryo, not yet, he's still warm and so young and he isn't _ready_...

"No...Can you just...I...Not now," Tony tries and it's so insufficient, they're not the words he wanted to say, he needs to explain—

But Quill gets it. "Sure, man. We'll give you some privacy, it's fine. Come find us when...when you're ready, I guess." The Star-Lord ushers his team out. Mantis rises too but doesn't immediately follow.

She waits for them all to leave. Tony doesn't even look at her, keeps Peter's hand tucked in his, carries on stroking his cheek. His hair is curling on his forehead. He bets the kid has some embarrassing and adorable baby pics somewhere, where he wears a gap-toothed grin and chocolate curls run rampant over his face in all directions.

On the cot, his skin gleams, waxy and pale.

"He loved you very much," Mantis says softly. There are tears in her voice. Tony wants to ask what she's crying for. She didn't know Peter, not really. She can't realise that all the stars in the sky burn for _nothing_ now, since this one remarkable kid was swept out of existence.

"I can show you," she offers, lifting a hand, but Tony rears back. He doesn't need to feel it. He already knows. Because this primal, soul-sucking hollow inside him that boils with despair can come from nowhere else but the death of the kid he loved like his own.

"Please don't," he replies simply, an ache splintering all the way up to his hairline from where he's clenching his jaw. He doesn't want to cry again. He just wants to be alone, just leave him _alone_ with the kid and let him grieve in peace. A small part of him does wonder why he's bothering to hold back his tears in front of Mantis when his cheeks are already wet and his lips are still quivering of their own volition.

He should thank her for what she's done, for easing Peter's pain and guiding him into death. But something primordial, something paternal in his brain only sees her as the executioner. Thanos struck the kid, but Mantis _euthanized_ him. And no matter that Peter was bleeding heavily on the inside and having heart attacks from shock and pain and that he was never going to make it home, despite Tony's promises and denial otherwise—no matter that it was _Tony_ who asked her to do it...In Tony's mind, what Mantis did for the kid is unforgivable.

He blinks up at her and what he says instead is: "When he...Could you see where he went? Is there anywhere else? After all this?" He knows his face must look as desperate as he sounds.

Mantis tilts her head. "I could not see. It was very quick; he had been fighting for a long time. But he was comforted to have you by his side, Mr Stark."

Tony swallows, looks down at Peter whose eyes are closed, lashes brushing against his milky cheeks. He looks battered, blood still trickling from his mouth, his cheeks cut and bruised. It's nothing compared to his shattered pelvis, the ribs stabbing into his lungs, his organs leaking blood. All in all, as bad as he looks, he could look worse, and it makes Tony's stomach churn to think he should be _grateful_ for that.

He looks back up at Mantis and in the corner of his eye he sees that flickering image of Earth still beaming across the room. His final lie.

There are no windows in the med-bay of the Milano and the Earth will not be approaching them for many hundreds of millions of miles.

He can't stand to look at it a second longer. "Can you take that hologram out?" he asks Mantis.

She doesn't seem at all offended by his blunt dismissal and nods. "I am very sorry for your loss, Mr Stark."

As she goes, she collapses the hologram and takes it with her. The room gets a little dimmer. It's fitting.

Without Peter Parker, so too does the rest of the universe.

 

* * *

 

They find some wormhole and Quill predicts it'll bring them back to Earth ahead of Thanos by maybe a day or two.

Underneath the odd, persistent numbness that's plagued him for days, Tony is somewhat relieved. This is what they're fighting for, after all; the Earth and all her people.

That relief is not enough to keep him from wandering around the ship like a ghost. He eats when he's offered food, doesn't sleep. And until the quiet gets to him—until his grief thoroughly overwhelms him, pins him up against the walls of his mind and screams at him over and over and he is forced to get some air—he spends every other moment with Peter.

He talks constantly. His throat has never been so dry. He tells Peter about how he plans to rebuild Earth if they survive. He tells him about his ideas for the future of his tech and Stark Industries and the Avengers and how, one day, he thinks it might have all been Peter's. He talks about Rogers and the truth of the Civil War and then he tells Peter about his mom and her blue eyes and how she used to sing at the piano.

"She'd have liked you, I think," Tony says, patting the cryo chamber that now surrounds Peter's body. "You're a lot like me, you know. Without all the brattiness and egotism, of course. Although, we gotta do something about that self-sacrificing streak of yours. It's really not a good look, especially when you consider that I'm more than double your age and probably less than a quarter as fit. Didn't anybody ever tell you? It's the circle of life, kid. It's supposed to be _me_ before you."

He pointedly ignores the way Gamora watches him out of the corner of her eye, something akin to pity creasing her face.

"Strap in, Tony," she tells him. Something about Gamora seeing him at his lowest seems to have put them on a first-name basis. He shoves down the feeling of disconnection, keeps the biting retort that she doesn't know him—none of the Guardians do—to himself. It's not her fault that, without the kid, he feels adrift in the universe, and that not even landing on the little blue planet can bring him back down to Earth.

 

* * *

 

There's a welcome wagon.

He's surprised at how much of the Compound is still standing and how many of his loved ones made it through. Hundreds of survivors gather as the Milano descends. There's some relief, maybe, in the faces of the crowd, but mostly people are antsy with tension. Quill had called ahead to let the world that they'd failed and that Thanos would be coming back for another round.

When the docking bay unfolds, Tony's eyes seek out Pepper like a man parched. He can't deny his heart feels a little lighter at the sight of her there, whole, alive, and unscathed. His gaze drifts to Peter's aunt, stood at her side, and he goes rigid where he stands.

Pepper is smiling at him, tears on her cheeks, but Tony can't take his eyes off May. He watches her gaze flit over the Guardians, catch sight of Tony. He can see the mental gymnastics, her counting them all off, but not Peter, _where's Peter?_

It must be written all over his face.

He can _see_ the moment she realises, when her face suddenly empties of all emotions. Her jaw opens, just slightly, her brown eyes— _so like Peter's_ —blowing wide.

She hits the floor on her knees.

The people surrounding her rustle and some of them step back. He thinks for one heart-stopping moment that she's actually passed out, until she sits up on her haunches, this terrible moaning, a guttural screech spilling from her lips. One hand is at her own throat, as if to choke the noises out of herself.

Tony's stomach drops. He rushes for her, even as Pepper kneels down and tries to pick her back up. May's other hand is dug into the earth in front of her, reaching like a prayer. Tony meets her on the ground, gathers her in his arms.

"May, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry," he whispers in her ear, below her sobbing. _This is what it feels like_ , he realises, as May shakes in his hold, clinging onto him so tightly her nails are breaking the skin. He's always fought on roughly even keel with his enemies before, either with his team behind him or with strength of his convictions. But this, this is something else, some new breed of desolation and hopelessness.

_This is what it feels like to have lost the war before it's even begun_.

The thought of ever rising from this patch of dirt where he holds May Parker in his arms and cries for her loss, of fighting Thanos _again,_ is an impossibility Tony doesn't even know how to quantify.

 

* * *

 

Helen Cho sedates May and in the hours it takes for the medication to wear off, Tony is pulled in a thousand directions. He busies himself with weapon schematics, pores over what little information has been gathered about the Outriders, Thanos' army. He discusses military tactics with generals from around the world and is in almost constant contact with the Wakandan government and the Avengers stationed out there.

When he tells Rhodey over the phone what happened to the kid, he breaks down all over again.

Later, he calibrates his armour, modifying it with suggestions the team of scientists give him based on what they've learned from the footage of the first attack. He coordinates with the Guardians for any and all information that might be useful regarding the Titan.

It's actually a relief to be so busy. It's a welcome distraction from the gaping wound that is Peter's absence. The kid would have been chattering a mile a minute but he was a genius in his own right and Tony's certain he would have had beyond valuable contributions that he misses like a limb now.

He's so absorbed in his work that he actually startles when FRIDAY announces that May would like to see him.

_Shit_. The engineer throws his tools down, the metal abruptly clammy where his hands immediately begin to sweat. He'd wanted to be there when she woke up, to get to her before she could see Peter and prepare her.

"Take me to her," he says, out of breath though he hasn't moved.

FRIDAY leads him not to the hospital wing of the Compound as he expected but to the personal quarters. The closer he gets, Tony's feet slow even as his heart rate begins to pick up.

They've put Peter in the room that would have been his had he accepted Tony's offer to join the Avengers the first time. The bed has been removed to make space for the cryo tube. It emits a cold blue glow that bounces off the walls. There's something tomb-like about it; a sepulchre dedicated to Peter that holds his preserved body in situ. The hairs on Tony's neck stand up as soon as he crosses the doorway.

In the low light, May is sat by Peter's side.

When she speaks, she doesn't turn to face him. Her hair is matted and tangled about her neck. From the slump of her shoulders, she seems to have aged two decades overnight. Her hand trembles where it sweeps over the smooth metal of the cryo chamber.

"Ned was evacuated in the first wave. I had to text him," May says out of nowhere in this tone of such shock, like it's almost _funny_ that the destruction of her whole world could be condensed into characters on a touchscreen. "He's his best friend, been friends since kindergarten," she explains, sniffing.

"I know," Tony says quietly. The kid goes on— _used_ to go on and on about Ned and their shenanigans all the time. Sometimes it was like listening to tales from Tony's own MIT days, when he and Rhodey used to get up to all kinds of mischief. It's another heaping of grief to think of the other teenager out there somewhere, who didn't get bitten by a spider or have an armour of his own, who had to watch his best friend go off to fight a war and know he might not make it back.

Well, damn. He suddenly thinks he understands Rogers better than ever.

"The, uh, the _alien_ woman...Um, Gamora, I think? She—she told me what happened to him," May says bravely.

It sticks like an ice pick into Tony's stomach. It should have been him. He flushes in the blue light, guilt creeping through him. It nestles and takes root and he knows straightaway he will never be free of it. Another failure.

_I'm sorry, kid_.

May laughs abruptly and Tony actually flinches. It sounds wrong; bleak and slightly unhinged, one octave away from being a sob. "You know, I asked the same thing to the police officer when, uh, when my husband died. I never thought—" She wipes the tears from her cheeks with the flats of her palms, words dying on her lips.

Tony stays silent. It is his duty to bear the weight of whatever she says next. If she accuses him of not doing enough, if she hits him, if she breaks down, he will bear it all.

It is nothing less than he deserves.

"I-I just want to know," she says at last. "I need...Did he—" May's voice goes all high and disappears. She swallows, finally looking back at Tony. The agony on her face makes his eyes fill.

" _Was he in p-pain?_ " she whispers, tears in her lashes. Her chin trembles up at him, her eyes huge and desperate, like her whole life depends on his answer.

_Yes._ "No," Tony murmurs, shaking his head gently. He comes forward and takes a seat next to May, wrapping an arm around her, resting his hand on the cryo chamber. It's cold to the touch, hums mechanically. "I was with him. Right to the end. I held his hand, talked to him. He was peaceful," he says haltingly, pressing his lips together. His eyes are wet again. He forces it down.

"I s-should've stopped him," May nods, digging her fingers into her hair. "I knew better but—"

"Don't do that, May," the engineer interjects seriously. "All that kid's good, that was from you. You and your husband. And I think we all knew he was never going to sit on the sidelines and watch when the Earth needed protecting. You should be so proud of him, May. I am."

"Me too," May agrees, wiping her mouth with her hand, "and I know, but, _God_ —"

"He told me to tell you," Tony cuts in again, because if he doesn't now, he'll never get it out and then May will be too lost to hear him, "that he loved you. And he wanted to say thank you for looking after him all these years."

May blinks at him. Her face screws up and falls forward to rest on his shoulder. In no time at all, the fabric is wet with her tears. His hand moves backwards and forwards on the cold steel and never has the touch of metal felt so hollow.

 

* * *

 

He sits with May in silence for an hour, letting her cry, until Happy comes looking for him. As he steps out into the hallway, back to the reality of the Compound, he feels more like he's setting foot on an alien planet now than he ever did when he was out in space.

"What's up?" Tony asks the driver.

Since his return to Earth, when Happy had greeted him with a tight hug and asked him what happened to the kid, the driver looks more shattered than he's ever seen him. His eyes are swollen and red. He's in gym gear, of all things, and Tony wonders how many gloves he got through, punching out his rage.

"Wakanda on the line for you, Boss. They're detecting something on the edges of the solar system," Happy tells him hoarsely.

Tony straightens at that, shrugging out of his grief, letting it pool behind him like a cloak. It's never not present—he suspects, if he makes it out of this, it always will be. But with the threat imminent, he stands like he's in his earliest armour, encased in metal. Untouchable.

"Okay." He blows out a breath, steeling himself. "If you, uh. The kid's..." He gestures to the closed door behind him. Happy doesn't look at it. "His aunt's in there but I'm sure...I don't think she'd mind. If you...If you wanna say anything."

"No thanks," Happy bites out. But Tony can hear the hurt underlying his words, knows that Happy loved Peter as much as he did.

"I think I'm...The gym," he continues roughly. He stumbles away without a goodbye, but Tony sees the way his shaking hand comes up to his face as he watches him go.

 

* * *

 

The distraction of the sudden appearance of Thanos at the corner of the solar system has everyone in such a flurry that Tony genuinely doesn't think of Peter for a few hours.

It isn't until the sun is just beginning to set that Pepper drags him aside in a rare quiet moment, her face blotchy and eyes rimmed with red.

"I have something you need to see," she says, leading him to the lab. "FRIDAY was going through the files on Peter's suit like you asked and she found something."

He recalls ordering FRIDAY to search Peter's recordings of the battles when they'd first returned, to learn Thanos' tactics and moves, find out as much as she could about the Infinity Stones and how they behaved before they have to fight him all over again.

In the middle of the lab, shining out from the holographic display, is Peter Parker, not beaten into the dust of an alien world, but sat thoughtfully in his bedroom in Queens, staring straight out at them.

The sight is so viscerally painful that Tony actually stops dead and spins round in one movement, unable to look. "The hell is this?" he spits and he knows his eyes are flaming with hurt and accusation towards Pepper. She shifts and raises her chin.

"I didn't mean to watch it, it just opened up and started playing. But you need to see this, Tony, before you go to war again," she insists, meeting him with equal ferocity, even as her eyes swim and her lip trembles.

He shuts his eyes and nods. Pepper kisses his cheek and he's sure she'll taste the tears there. Silently, she moves away and he hears the lab doors slide closed behind her.

"FRIDAY, no one else in for the next ten minutes," he orders, opening his eyes and turning round.

He shuffles to the first chair in front of the display and sits, breathing deeply for a second. Then, "Play," he commands.

"Is this recording, Karen?" Peter asks on-screen. "You can see me okay, right?"

Tony realises the kid has set up his mask as a makeshift camera. It actually makes his stomach churn to hear Peter speak without struggling, to see his skin not marked with cuts and bruises.

 Karen's voice tinkles out, "We are recording. You look very handsome from this perspective, Peter."

Peter huffs an embarrassed laugh. "Okay, okay, thanks, Karen. So, uh, how...Where should I start? I guess, uh...Guess I'm gonna just go for it. This...Wow, this feels weird. _Weirder_ than the other ones." Peter blows out a breath, holding up a hand in a wave. "Okay, so, uh. Hey, Mr Stark."

He looks directly into camera and the words and his penetrating gaze make Tony's stomach drop. His palms start to sweat.

"Um, first off, I hope that you never actually see this. Not because I, uh, I wanna keep secrets from you—I really, really do not—it's just that this is kinda morbid and if you ever see this, like if you just find it in Karen's files or something, then it'll be awkward." He grimaces but doesn't look away. "And if that's not the case and you're seeing this because..." His voice trails off and he licks his lips. His hands intertwine nervously.

"Then that means I'm actually...And, uh, yeah, really don't...don't wanna think about that either. But, uh, anyway. I wanted to make this video just in case...Well, in case anything happens? You know, like _to_ me, I mean. Oh, I guess I should say, if you're wondering why I'm doing this now, we just had the call from Wakanda to say they've had a message from space and everyone's been kinda freaking out. Including you. I mean I know you were joking around on the phone and everything earlier but I could hear it in your voice."

Tony remembers the Guardians arrival and how they told them Thanos was coming, even though it seems like decades ago now. He remembers the panic that followed their announcement, then the chaos and destruction when Thanos actually showed. Leading the Titan away from Earth and taking Peter with him will haunt him the rest of his days.

He thought he'd done a decent job of hiding his fear, even that early on.

"You did a good job hiding it, Mr Stark," Peter says on-screen, like he's plucked the thought directly from Tony's head. "But I know it has to be bad if all hands on deck includes me."

Tony wishes it hadn't. God how he wishes he hadn't gotten the kid involved. In the recording, in his jeans and novelty science t-shirt, his hair sticking up in all directions, Peter's youth and innocence mock Tony. Never in a million years could he have predicted it would have turned out like this.

"So yeah, just in case anything happens, I wanted to make this for you. I've made one for May too. And Ned. I basically just wanted to say all the important stuff now, in case I don't get a chance to later."

_Oh._ Tony knows what this is. He almost shuts it off, has to pause it for a second to collect himself, slumped in his seat, head buried in his hands.

_I owe him this_. The thought makes him sit back up, entirely focused on the kid's hidden message. "Play," he instructs, clearing his throat.

"I don't really know how to...start? It was easy with May and Ned because I've known them _forever_. I mean, I guess I kinda have known you forever too, Mr Stark. I remember watching on TV when you announced you were Iron Man. That was...It like changed my life, man." Peter laughs again, soft and easy. "D'you remember me telling you about how I went to your expo once? You were just like the coolest dude. Still are."

Faintly, Tony smiles. He can perfectly recall Peter telling him about coming to his expo as a little boy. When he'd revealed that he was the kid in the Iron Man mask that Tony had saved from one of Hammer's knock-offs, Tony had to wonder if it was the universe trying to tell him something. That Peter had a connection to him that went back further than his team, than the _Avengers_...It felt like divine providence. He should have known when that little kid held up his hand ready to fire that Peter was never going to back down from his destiny.

His smile turns bitter, then drops altogether. He wants to shake his younger self for not telling the kid to run as fast as he could and not look back. For not telling Peter to stay away, that getting involved with Tony Stark is tantamount to a death sentence because he breaks everything he touches.

Blissfully unaware of Tony's internal void of self-loathing, Peter continues to praise him in his recording. "And I remember watching from our apartment when you carried that nuke into space. It was crazy. May had closed all the curtains and had us all under the table in case the aliens broke in or the building came down but we still had the TV going and I kept peeking out the windows, even when her and Ben told me not to. After New York, all I could think about was how brave you'd been. I just wanted to be that brave, you know?"

The words make Tony's skin prickle, guilt and sorrow pressing on him from both sides.

"I mean, at the time, the worst thing I had to deal with was like school playground bullies but it was like my mantra, dude," Peter laughs again. "Like 'what would Tony Stark do?' And then, when I got my powers, and my...uh, well. After everything with Ben—" Peter ducks his head and Tony's heart aches for him. He knows the kid still struggled to speak about his uncle even a year or so after his death.

It doesn't feel like his place to do so, but Tony hopes against hope Ben's been reunited with his nephew up there and is looking out for him.

"I just wanted to help people, to look out for the little guy, because that's what _you_ did." Peter continues. "And alright, so I guess the whole planet is like your little guy, Mr Stark—you and the Avengers—but I just thought I could keep my little corner of New York City safe. And maybe you'd appreciate it or something. Seems stupid now." The kid huffs a self-conscious laugh and Tony wishes so forcefully it's physically painful that he could have seen the kid grow out of his endearingly awkward adolescence, and flourish into the proud young man he knows would one day have led the future Avengers.

"I never thought I'd actually meet you one day or that you would build awesome suits for me and check up on me and stuff. It was like a dream come true. I wasn't kidding when I told you that time I wanted to be just like you."

His mind flashes back to that first year, after Siberia and the war with Rogers, when it felt like all he had in the world at times was mentoring Peter Parker. The kid had more than proved himself after the incident with Toomes and the plane and Tony could not have been prouder when Peter turned down his offer to join the Avengers. He'd been invested in the kid before, but after that he was _committed_.

Tony had seen the whole future in Peter. He was everything Tony was fighting for; the young, the bright, the hopeful. The _innocent_. Underneath the irrational anger and the grief, he knows he has the rest of the world to defend and protect. But without Peter at his side, it feels a whole lot like fighting for nothing.

"I really hope you know that I'm so grateful for everything you've done for me, Mr Stark. I still don't know what I did to deserve it," the kid says, heartbreakingly earnest, as if he wasn't a person of limitless goodness, far better than Tony would ever be.

"But I promise I'll try my hardest not to let you down out there."

It's so awful to hear, Tony almost pauses the video again. He swallows thickly and lets it play on.

"And I know it...This is gonna sound crazy but is it weird if I say you...Well, how you...you've been like a dad to me...I guess?" Peter's voice lifts at the end and he goes all bashful, a hand reaching up to nervously cradle the crown of his head. "Aaaand I probably just made you like super uncomfortable. Sorry, Mr Stark," he continues, smiling uneasily.

Tony's heart races. _No, you haven't,_ he thinks, tears running along the creases of his soft smile. His hand clenches around armrest.

"I just wanted to get it out there in case...Just in case. Not that I think anything bad is gonna happen or anything! But, I guess..." Peter blows out a breath in the recording, stares off-camera. When his gaze flicks back up to the lens, he is steely sincerity and determination. "I never got to tell my Uncle Ben how much I cared about him before he died. And if there's one thing it taught me—maybe even bigger than how important it is to use my powers to help and protect people—it's that you should always tell the people you love how much they mean to you. Because you never know, you know? You never know when it could be your last day."

On-screen, Peter straightens, the tension melting from him. He smiles, warm and easy, and Tony can hardly see for the film of tears. "So," Peter carries on, beaming widely and clapping his hands together, "I love you, Mr Stark. And you're my hero, man. I truly can't thank you enough for everything you've done for me. Now let's go kick some alien ass!"

As Peter reaches for the mask, a jaunty "Okay, that's a wrap, Karen!" on his lips, Tony pauses before the screen can go black. He reaches up a hand as though he can take the one Peter is stretching out to him.

He sits in the silence, holding his hand out to the air, grasping nothing, until FRIDAY gently informs him the ten minutes of solitude are up.

 

* * *

 

The final hours are spent in a kind of nervous, frenetic whirlwind. The air in the Compound is thick with tension. Faces are drawn, words are sparing. People hold each other too tightly, make promises they're not sure can be kept.

When the call comes to move out, Tony squeezes Pepper and kisses her. He swears he'll come back. As he leaves the building, suit building seamlessly around him, he stops by Peter's room for the final time.

May hasn't moved. She is in the clothes she wore yesterday, untouched by the chaos and anxious atmosphere filling the building around her. She watches silently as Tony moves to the cryo tube and strokes a hand over the glass covering Peter's face. Ice has crystallised on the inside and he can't see the kid's face through it but he thinks that's okay. His last memory of Peter, overshadowed by the terrible pain of his death, is that of the video and his heartfelt words and happy smiles.

"Wish me luck, kid," he says gruffly. He wants to say something like Peter said in the recording, something like _I love you too._ But May is still sat there and he feels small and ashamed, as though he can already hear her accusations, even though something inside him knows May would never.

_If you loved him so much, how could you let him die_?

Instead, he just repeats the words he wants to say over and over in his mind and hopes his soul is screaming them loud enough for Peter to hear, wherever he is.

After a moment, he turns to May to say goodbye. He clears his throat. "I just wanted to say..." The words come with difficulty, every utterance laced with the shame of Tony's failure. He can barely meet her eyes. "We're heading out now. But you'll be safe here, whatever..."

His voice trails off. It's a careless sentiment to offer to perhaps the only person on Earth who doesn't care about the fate of humanity. As far as May Parker is concerned, her world ended days ago, on a beat-up spaceship hundreds of millions of miles away.

He ducks his head and makes to go.

"Tony," she calls out, stopping him in his tracks. He turns in the doorway. Her face is pinched with hesitance. She licks her lips before she goes to speak, eyes dropping momentarily to the floor, and the gesture is _so_ Peter that it makes his chest hurt with grief all over again.

"Why do you call yourselves the Avengers?" she asks. He blinks at the question. She must read his confusion because she lifts a shoulder in a shrug. "I always wondered. Peter was obsessed with you all when he was a little boy. I always thought it sounded so violent. I never could figure it out."

Tony swallows, considering his answer. He thinks of the person he was when they were first formed to fight Loki and the Chitauri. He thinks of before that, when he thought the worst thing the universe could do to him was trap him miles from home and cut out his heart. He never thought it could happen again, and that the pain—rather than growing stronger from it, more resistant to it—would be multiplied exponentially the second time around.

"The idea was," he says, "if we couldn't protect humanity, then we sure as hell wouldn't go down without a fight."

May's face tightens, another wash of sadness. "Peter wanted to be one of you so badly."

_And he was,_ Tony thinks. _The best of us._ "...I know."

"W-When...When you’re out there," she says, and for the first time since returning without Peter, Tony sees the flickers of fire raging in her, "think of him? And avenge him. _Please_."

He thinks of Thanos' fist around the kid, smashing the life out of him. He thinks of the fifteen-year-old genius, saving cats and schoolchildren. He thinks of Peter choking on his own blood, crying in pain. He thinks of Spider-Man standing up to him, swinging through New York like the whole city is his backyard.

He thinks of a video, of " _I love you, Mr Stark_ " and " _You've been like a dad to me_."

For the first time since the kid passed away in space, Tony feels a new purpose snap to life in him. It boils in his blood, surges through his veins. Adrenaline floods him and he stands a little taller, his vision sharpening. Tony didn't understand until now that he was going through the motions preparing the Earth, readying its forces for the ultimate battle.

Now he has a new mission. He doesn't realise he's clenching his fist until a nerve cramps in his left hand.

"With everything I have," Tony promises.

 

**Author's Note:**

> idk about this one my dudes. i actually wrote this fic second even though i'm posting it last so if you imagine these fics as being my children, 'The Long Way Round' is my firstborn, my pride and joy. 'The Sins of the Father' is the spoilt fat baby who i love and takes all my attention. and this poor fic i feel like is my neglected middle child that i failed. i'm sorry bby. there's just something about it idk idk. i love writing angst+hurt/comfort...but the comfort part is always the hardest for me since there's no stakes anymore and it's just the recovery. not that this fic is recovery but trying to write about loss after the fact...yeesh it was hard. but im glad i did it and it's finished now i s'pose.
> 
> thanks a million again for all the love and support i've had for these fics. more than i ever deserved and i'm completely blown away by it, so very grateful, thank you all loads <3


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